SMMA 72

Chapter 72

“Still, if we’re going to remain in the same group, don’t you think we should clear up misunderstandings?”

“No!”

By now Derregue understood very well.

Ihan called them ‘misunderstandings,’ but these matters weren’t misunderstandings at all. Ihan was simply the type of person always prepared to make Giselle’s life miserable if the chance appeared. He would, of course, insist it was ‘self-defense.’

“It’ll be fine… probably. I’ll be the one to relay words between you. Let’s leave it at that.”

“Oh? Derregue, sounds like you actually like serving as a messenger.”

“……”

Derregue didn’t even have the energy to reply.

A few Blue Dragon Tower students shuffled up to the swordsmanship hall, only to be greeted by hostile glares from White Tigers.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re here to make sure you don’t gang up on Wadanaz!”

“…What? You’re the ones who should say that to us!”

The White Tigers fumed. They had attacked first, but the ratio of hits received greatly outweighed what they had dealt. Not that the Dragons were interested in excuses.

They clattered and postured, but when Ihan appeared, the Dragons yanked at both his arms and rushed him away.

“Hurry! Who knows what tricks they’ll try!”

“It’s fine.”

“No—it’s dangerous outside, with summons roaming! We’ll guard you, Wadanaz!”

He barely had the chance to say goodbye to Derregue before being whisked off.

I really am fine.

The Dragons clutched him all the way, whispering warnings.

“Careful, Wadanaz. Tigers are beasts, savages.”

“Next class is alchemy, right? We’ll escort you there.”

Dragged along between human ‘bodyguards,’ Ihan caught Yonellia’s baffled gaze.

“Why are you being hauled by both arms?”

“Meikin! Don’t you know basic safety? Outside is danger, always assume danger!”

Ihan could probably beat you all together… Yonellia thought, staring strangely.

“Yes, this situation is very dangerous,” said a calm voice.

“Priestess Siana of the Plemonn Order—genius of alchemy, unrivaled prodigy—it has been too long,” Ihan intoned grandly, still pinned between his fellow Dragons.

Unrivaled prodigy? Master of alchemy? his friends thought, baffled. They knew she was skilled, but this?

Siana beamed, proffering a flask. “A potion I made myself—Monster-Repelling Draft. Please, Lord Wadanaz, use it. It carries a scent monsters loathe.”

“A truly magnificent gift—I am moved to tears.”

Nillia, arriving late, whispered in confusion. “Why are you talking like some old noble courtier?”

“Nillia. In the Empire, if you want to survive in society, you must at least master this much.”

“??”

Nillia was no closer to understanding.

Regardless, Ihan pocketed the potion like treasure.

Week three has escaped summons in the schoolyard. By week five, they may wander into the dorms. By week seven, demons might come knocking…

“Sit down.”

Professor Thunderstep entered Alchemy Hall, yawning. Students returned thinly veiled hatred with the thinnest politeness.

“All potions completed?”

“Yes (barely survived it).”
“Of course (one day we’ll bury you).”

Though Ihan lacked any mind-reading spell, he could practically hear their inner voices.

“What? Already finished?! Did I mischeck?”

Disappointed, Thunderstep squinted suspiciously.

Siana answered bluntly, “The recipe you taught us seemed wrong. We all worked together to correct it.”

“…Why would you do that? You don’t even like each other!”

Silence answered him.

Muttering, he shuffled forward regardless. “Well. You’ve done the work. This <Lesser Spirit-Affinity Potion> marks your first full steps as true alchemists. Imperfect but passable.”

He took a student’s flask, uncorked it, dipped a strange branch like a torch into the liquid. A faint flicker of flame danced.

“See? Weak.” He puffed it out.

Another flask, another dip. Another faint flicker. He smiled smugly.

FWOOOOM!

The next erupted so fiercely it nearly burned his beard. Recoiling, he glared daggers at Ihan.

Ihan’s expression screamed injustice. You didn’t check the labels, old fool!

“Some are strong. But don’t get proud. Luck comes once—arrogance will break you.”

Asan nodded sincerely, impressed; Ihan swallowed his protest.

Thunderstep swiped his staff, uncorking them all and checking in swift succession, his hovering quill jotting scores.

Ihan glimpsed the scrawl beside his name: 10. Boring brat.

…A professor is allowed to do this?

Next, Thunderstep raised a hand and conjured: an adorable rabbit of shimmering frost leapt into view.

Students gasped.

“This is Rabbit-Sensei, an ice elemental I often use. Tiny, but deadly. Could erase you all if unleashed.”

The rabbit nodded gravely, brimming with self-importance.

Students stifled disbelief.

“Don’t begin by binding such creatures. One must befriend lesser spirits and raise standing like credit with a bank.”

Indeed, forming contracts was a matter of reputation in the Spirit World.

“Genuine sincerity is all that works. Spirits detect arrogance instantly.”

It was, shockingly, some of the most interesting lecture material they had yet received.

Compared to foraging plants on lethal mountainsides or dodging exploding cauldrons, befriending spirits sounded almost romantic.

“Drink.” Students obediently swallowed potions.

“Now—go meet the spirits.”

Darkness took Ihan’s vision.

The scene reminded him of the Headmaster’s black book: what it had done by force, dragging him into illusory training.

But Thunderstep had hurled them into the actual Spirit Realm.

Volcanic fissures blazed in one sky, icy avalanches roared in another. Somewhere between flame and frost territories, he had landed.

Not bad. Fire or ice would be very practical.

Fire to cook stews and fry eggs. Ice to keep meat—

Wrong thoughts. Focus, fool.

He shook it off.

Sincerity only. Not heritage, not skill.

He shouted, “Are you the great and mighty Fire-Puppy Spirit-Sir?”

A blazing puppy bounded up the charred plain, froze mid-leap, then spun to gape at him. Its look clearly said, Are you insane?

Then it bolted in terror.

“??!” Ihan blinked. “Wait! Fire-Puppy-Sir, come back!”

No use.

Perhaps the titles were too much? Spirits might prefer modesty.

Spotting a fire pigeon, he crooned, “Excuse me, Fire-Pigeon… mister?”

It shrieked madly and fled.

Now definite unease stirred.

This is not right…

Students emerged one by one, chattering with joy.

“You saw it too? A carp spirit in the lake stared and didn’t flee!”
“My fox spirit actually let me stroke its ear!”

Thunderstep clapped hands to his ears in annoyance.

“Quiet, quiet! Take that boasting back to your Towers. Point is—you’ve learned befriending spirits is no easy thing. Keep trying, even off-class time. Spirits will aid alchemy greatly.”

“Yes, sir!”

The class filed out, beaming.

But Thunderstep beckoned Ihan aside, curiosity glinting.

He suspected Wadanaz’s genius might melt even cold spirits.

“So? How was it?”

“A catastrophe, Professor.”

Thunderstep’s smile swelled. Of course—struggles at first.

“How bad? Spirits wouldn’t heed you?”

“They fled at the sight of me.”

“…What?”